Leslie Coulson

..But A Short Time To Live - Poem by Leslie Coulson

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Our little hour,—how swift it flies When poppies flare and lilies smile; How soon the fleeting minute dies, Leaving us but a little while To dream our dream, to sing our song, To pick the fruit, to pluck the flower, The Gods—They do not give us long,— One little hour.

Our little hour,—how short it is When Love with dew-eyed loveliness Raises her lips for ours to kiss And dies within our first caress. Youth flickers out like wind-blown flame, Sweets of to-day to-morrow sour, For Time and Death, relentless, claim Our little hour.

Our little hour,—how short a time To wage our wars, to fan our hates, To take our fill of armoured crime, To troop our banners, storm the gates. Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red, Blind in our puny reign of power, Do we forget how soon is sped Our little hour?

Our little hour,—how soon it dies: How short a time to tell our beads, To chant our feeble Litanies, To think sweet thoughts, to do good deeds. The altar lights grow pale and dim, The bells hang silent in the tower— So passes with the dying hymn Our little hour.

Comments about ..But A Short Time To Live by Leslie Coulson

He again uses his favorite tool- comparison- and writes of the futility of life. But this poem is stately and measured and is founded firmly on the truth that he sees and mankind often feels- even the most believing of believers have their moments of distress... extremely well-written(Report)Reply